Get Me Out of Here

I think working in a field that emphasizes personal meetings over phone calls has spoiled me.

I hate the days when I don’t leave the office, which, if I understand correctly, is how most office employees’ days go everyday — yuk.

Most days I know I’ll be leaving for at least a six-mile trek to the Sheriff’s Office to pick up arrest reports. Other days if I hear a wreck on the scanner and my hind side is tired of sitting in front of the computer I’ll go, snap some photos and typically stop at a fast food joint and get a nice drink.

It was great when the oil first started appearing on our beaches. I got to go to the beach everyday. I’d pack a beach outfit, some Bermuda shorts and a conservative tank top so I wouldn’t have to smell up the office when I returned, and would walk the stretch of sand talking with people, taking photos and occasionally dipping my feet in the water to cool off.

I got a nice tan and a break from the office.

The days when I don’t leave the office at all, though, are killer.

I sit, walk into the break room, sit, go to the bathroom sometimes just to look at new scenery, sit, eat more than necessary and, oh yeah, sit some more.

I had a friend tell me about something called “secretary butt” that happens when people sit too much in their lifetime. All I could think is now I have a new fear to add to the list.

“Great, now not only do I have to fear about dying alone, I may die with a larger-than-usual behind — awesome.”

Staying in my pod also makes for an incredibly long day, and eight hours is already long without having to feel every minute of it.

This is why I decided early on that I would never want to sit at a desk with the title of editor or anything similar. I don’t think I could take coming to the office day in and day out without a chance of leaving the four walls.

I mean, I work in a large room of six pods (four desks stuck together), no windows and a leaky roof. Picturesque it is not.

Why am I whining? Because on my calendar today is a big, white blank space that tells me that any chance I have of leaving the office would already be penciled in.